Hunting the Hunter
by Goldsaver
Summary: An incredibly powerful werewolf strikes fear in all of Skyrim, hunting her way through the entire region. In response, many young heroes take up the chance to hunt her. Success means glory unimaginable. Failure means being just another snack for the Lady Wolf of Skyrim.
1. The Lady Wolf Introduced

The Lady Wolf

The young Redguard woman woke up in a pile of brush, gripping her throbbing head. She was naked, but she carried herself with a certain confidence that was not typical of such a state; she was used to waking up in strange places. At her feet lied a dead body, a middle aged male, his body marred with blunt trauma and a pair of nasty claw marks across his face, a huge chunk of his neck torn off. The woman licked her lips, tasting the blood still on them, as she remembered, hazily, her killing of the man. She was a lycanthrope, and she had just finished a rampage. The man tried to hunt her, carrying a silver great sword in his arms. He was an easy kill, he had no experience, and was likely driven by some sense of vengeance. She dragged him, still struggling for life, to her hiding spot for the night, and she took a nice bite out of his neck before fading into sleep and returning to her human form.

She touched the dried blood on her lips, and felt the excitement rush through her body; she remembered the sheer power running through her body as she twisted into her wolf form, and how easily trained warriors fell before her raw, wild savagery. She couldn't remember every detail, but her time as a werewolf was a blur of excitement, adrenalin, and freedom. She loved it. She didn't have a real life anymore; she spent the day traveling to new places and the nights letting loose on the world. Civilization was foreign to her now, and she felt more at home in her werewolf form than her human body.

Her mind began to focus as she regained her senses and got her bearings. Acting on instinct, she returned to the spot she first transformed, where she had put her stuff. She would have to leave soon; once the bodies were taken care of, they would be out looking for her. She turned to a cave nearby, and remembered that she had hidden her equipment in there; deciding it best not to run around naked, she quickly stripped down her kill; the blood on the clothes was irrelevant to her. It was simple leather clothing, it would serve to provide some protection in case anyone was in the cave. She slid on the leather armor, and put the iron boots on her feet, cursing how uncomfortable the boots were on her feet. Her hands lit up as two small flames formed within her palms; she had no weapons, so spells would have to do.

She was no master mage, but she studied at Winterhold for a period, and she knew Destruction magic. She stomped towards her cave intently, listening for anything out of the ordinary. There were tents and remains of a fire in front of her cave, and she recognized it as a bandit camp, still sleeping into the morning hours. The tents were felt, and the bandits were completely open. With a flick of both her hands, the twin fireballs left her palms and smashed into the tents. The bandits died instantly in the explosions, never knowing what hit them. She gave a smirk at the thought; bandits were easy prey, good to warm up but hardly true foes. She felt a tingle in the back of her spine and she knew better foes would come soon; her lord Hircine would give her a challenge. But for now, she had some bandits to deal with.

She stepped intently towards the cave entrance, appearing single-minded but taking in every detail of her surroundings. All the bandits outside were dead, and more would likely be inside. With bloodlust beginning to grow in her, she approached the cave at a steady pace, her hands burning with magic. She didn't like killing this way, for she preferred the rush of the Wolf form, but a kill was a kill and she couldn't be concerned with her methods in a matter of such urgency. She rushed into the entrance of the cave, remembering she had stashed her equipment in a clearing deep in the cave system.

A group of five bandits were clustered around a fire; to her surprise, and they did not seem to have been alerted by the explosions outside. She crouched down, lightly moving her feet in a slow, soundless manner as she tried to find the best position to strike. She felt some excitement as she stalked her prey, but it was nothing compared to the nights as a werewolf. She got a good angle on the group, and her hands began to light up. She placed her lower wrists together, aiming her palms outwards towards the group, and let loose a fireball. The group exploded in flames, two of them falling instantly, a third unlucky one caught on fire. The other two quickly jumped to battle, and the lady wolf responded with another fireball, striking down one of the charging bandits.

The other one was still charging her, the Nord clutching on his steel dagger. He closed on the woman before she was able to cast another spell, and let out a slash with his dagger. The woman simply stepped back, avoiding the clumsy slash with ease and giving a light smirk at the inexperience of her foe. Again, he delivered a slash, from the other side this time, and again she stepped back, avoiding the blow. Getting frustrated, the man let out a thrust with his dagger, and the woman responded by grabbing the man's wrist, snapping it with a simple motion, and grabbed the dagger as it fell out of the man's limp hand, and plunged it into the man's stomach, twisting it upwards as it entered.

The Nord looked into the woman's eyes as blood began to pour through his lips. He spoke, choked by blood.

"Who…who are you?"

The Redguard woman gave a wide smile, and gave her name.

"I am Ancola. And you're dead."

With a quick motion, she wrenched the dagger free of his guts, and with a second quick thrust, shoved the blade under the man's ribs and into his heart, killing him instantly. She freed the dagger and tossed it to the side, giving a sigh as the excitement and adrenalin began to leave her system, and again she cleared her mind as she remembered her goal. These bandits were but a warm-up exercise for the hunters that would be after her in just a few hours.

Giving a glance to those bodies of the bandits, she continued on into the cave. More bandits lied in the tunnels, but they would fall before her rather quickly, she thought. These were inexperienced bandits, thankfully, and they had little in the way of combat expertise. They were just young fools unlucky enough to get in the way of a experienced veteran of battle.

She stepped lightly through the cave, looking for the remainder of the bandit clan. She was getting closer to the location of her equipment; she had hid it away, from prying eyes, so they probably hadn't touched her stuff. She looked into the clearing; only one bandit remained, and he looked much more hardened than the rest.

Plate armor covered the burly Nord's body, a horned helmet obscuring his face. He carried a steel great sword, the blade's length almost matching his height. The man carried himself with a martial confidence that suggested he would not go down easy. She felt drained, and she was smart enough to know she didn't have the energy to keep up a fight with spells. Ancola looked to her side and noticed an iron sword; she picked it up silently, and glanced to the position of her bag She knew exactly where it was, and she could hopefully grab it without the Bandit Chief noticing. She slipped off her noisy iron boots, and began to walk in a crouch to the location of her bag.

She made every step with confidence, her bare feet not making a sound on the rocky ground. Moving carefully, she paused as she found concealment. The Bandit Chief begin to walk towards her, and she held her breath as the bandit moved past her position; she then moved and began to sneak towards her bag again.

The Bandit Chief paused in his step, his face locked in a tight grimace. He heard his friend's screams. He listened to them die. He allowed the bitch who killed them to think, for a moment, that he didn't notice her. To leave her open for a strike. She killed his boys, the only family he had ever known; they were like his sons. And he would be damned if she got away with it alive. Tears began to pierce the Nord's eyes, and he let his sorrow flow free, for just a moment. Clenching his sword, he channeled his sorrow into rage, and with a mighty swing, aiming to rip her head off her body.

Ancola stopped mid-step as she felt a chill run down her spine, and she rolled to the side, barely dodging the great sword that came down upon her.

She turned to her attacker. She had no idea how he had heard her, but it didn't matter now. She had a fight, and this time it was one for survival. The Nord began to charge, and Ancola cast a fireball from her hand, directly hitting the Nord. He brushed it off, the fireball doing nothing but interrupting his charge. Ancola dove out of the way as he charged again, cutting the sole of her foot on a particularly sharp rock. Pumped with far too much adrenalin to notice the minor injury, she took advantage of the failed charge to slash the man on the back, but it didn't even scratch his armor. The man, with a fierce elbow blow, knocked Ancola on her back.

Ancola just started to get up when the bandit planted his boot on her stomach. She looked up to him, and an evil smile came to his face. He gave a gloating laugh, and raised his blade to deliver a final blow. She thought to cast a fireball on him, but she was too drained to cast another spell. She closed her eyes and resigned herself to her fate when she heard the man grunt. Opening her eyes, she saw it: A spectral, clear and see-through arrow lodged in the man's chest… lodged in his heart, having piercing right through the armor. Ancola scrambled out from under him as his limp corpse collapsed on the ground. She turned to her savior, and was surprised to see someone she recognized. A….friend, or at least the closest she ever had. The Breton, Gulie, holding a spectral bound bow in his hands; he released the bow, and it vanished. Ancola began to recall Gulie, a close friend and confidant from her college days. An enchanter and summoner; she kept a ring he had enchanted for her, as a token of their…friendship. More than that, really, and she felt the love she had for him begin to bubble up; she finally stood up, and winced in pain as she finally noticed the cut on her foot. Pushing thoughts of her old friendship out , she decided on what to do _now with her friend. She looked to a nearby set of chairs, and spoke to Gulie._

"_Gulie, come take a seat."_

_Ancola quickly moved for her bag, concealed in a vase, and began to remove its contents. She would change into her full armor later, and she took the time only to remove the ring and her more comfortable boots. As she slid the ring on, she felt healthier and stronger. She moved to sit down, in a chair across from Gulie, and began to put on her boots, but Gulie held out his palm._

"_You're injured."_

_He removed a set of bandage wrap, and Ancola silently wondered why, between two mages, there were no healing spells to be found. Ancola set her foot up, and Gulie attentively began to bandage it. She wondered how he happened to come across her, and what he was doing out here. She knew better than to ask him, because she sure as hell didn't want him asking why she was here._

"_I was hired out to hunt down a werewolf who slaughtered a group of villagers. I found he- its last victim, and tracked it back to this cave."_

_Ancola kept a neutral expression, but she felt like Gulie knew; quietly, she put her hands to the side of her stone chair, out of sight, and they lit up with a light blue light, a calm spell to keep any violent or accusing thoughts out of her friend's head._

"_How long have you been tracking him, Gulie?"_

"_Since last night."_

"_When did you last sleep?"_

_Ancola asked this question as she felt her spell beginning to take its affect on him. She wanted to gently guide him into sleep, so this possible conflict could be resolved quickly._

"_I slept about a day ago; its no…"_

_Gulie let out an involuntary yawn, and he decided to end his statement there._

"_Anyone else out hunting?"_

_Gulie felt his mind numb, and he felt any capability to lie fade away._

"_No…just me. No one else…would step…up."_

_Ancola spoke in a gentle, soothing voice._

"_Sleep…sleep my friend; we're safe here."_

_Ancola made eye contact with her friend, and she saw his eyes were beginning to droop. She spoke one last time._

"_Sleep."_

_Gulie closed his eyes and was instantly in the world of dreams. Ancola looked upon her friend, and when she was confident he was fully asleep, she grabbed some nearby rope. He was deeply asleep, magically induced, and he wouldn't wake up until she decided to allow him to._

_She quickly removed his gauntlets and boots, and bound him at the wrists, tying them to the arms of the chair, and at the ankles, tying them together. She felt the time was around noon; she would wait until close to night to wake him. She reached into her bag and took a vial of her own blood-from her wolf form- and gave a light smirk. Its been too long since she had a friend, and now she would have a pack-mate._

_And so the Lady Wolf of Skyrim sat upon the chair, and allowed sleep to take her as thoughts of further hunts rushed through her mind. _


	2. The Hunter Introduced

He did his best to hold back the tears. He looked upon this terrible sight, and it just started to overwhelm him. It never got easier. Killing got easier, seeing the corpses of the enemy got easier. But you never got used to seeing dead civilians, especially kids. But he needed to see them for himself, see the dead, see the reason he's here, so he doesn't forget. The emotion he felt provided some comfort to the middle-aged man, as it let him know there was still some humanity left in him. Seeing the dead kept him honest, human, reminded him _why _he hunts, why he does what he does.

The parents stood next to him, looking upon their dead son. He had to be strong, give the parents confidence that their son would find justice. He gave glances to the body, but seeing the small boy, ripped to shreds by teeth and claw…that was something he couldn't keep looking at. The body, or what was left of it, was in its coffin, ready to be shut at a moment's notice. The man, knowing the parents were edging on a breakdown seeing their son, their pride and joy, like this, decided that he had seen enough of this horrid sight.

"Close it, please."

The guard shut the coffin tight, and four men carried it off for burial. This was just one tragedy of many, he knew. But seeing one for himself allowed him to keep his heart in it, know that he's doing the right thing. The Lady W-Ancola of Winterhold, correcting himself in his own head, did this. He couldn't mythologize this murderer with such titles. Then people would remember the killer, and not the victims. And he saw no greater sadness than people being forgotten. They wouldn't be, he told himself. They would get justice one way, or another.

They offered him a fortune, enough money to buy a good house, a chance to settle down, have a family… he scattered it among the beggars of the town. Had to struggle to get his meals, he knew, lest he get soft. And he certainly wasn't going to be settling down anytime soon. He felt stomping behind him, and he knew his hireling had arrived.

"Mercenary." He stated, acknowledging his presence. The mercenary carried himself with the martial confidence typical of such a profession- arrogance, he saw it as. "My name is Albeci of Solitude. I will be heading this hunt, Mercenary."

At last, Albeci turned to see his hireling. A large Nord, he noticed. Great sword on his back, heavy armor covered his body. A bad choice for a hunter… needed to be light on your feet, versatile. He already had a distaste for the man. He was here for the money, not to stop more people from dying. He wondered what he did to the Legate to get such a terrible hunter added to his group. He realized he must of offended the Legate much worse when the mercenary finally spoke.

"Legate Skulnar wishes to inform you I will be the only person to join you on today's hunt."

Albeci winced at those words. This was a hunt for one of the most powerful werewolves in Skyrim, and the Legate wanted it done with two people. He would hold Skulnar responsible for any further deaths that occurred, he told himself.

Albeci took the time to consider his chances. He was a master hunter, an excellent marksman, and a good solider… but that hadn't given him Ancola before. He hunted the murderer everywhere, keeping careful track of every victim. They deserved justice… and by the Grace of the Divines, they would get it.

Albeci looked toward the horizon, where the Wolf was seen running off. A local guard, his main contact, approached Albeci as he got lost in his thoughts. Without looking towards him, Albeci asked a question.

"You said you sent a hunter out before me. Who was he?"

"Gulie of Winterhold, sir."

Albeci tensed at his last word; _Sir__. It had been so long since someone referred to him as that, treated him as something other than a common hireling. Still, he responded to the guard's words._

"_He hasn't returned yet. We assume Ancola has killed him, like the rest."_

_The guard gave a harsh nod, affirming Albeci's opinion. _

"_Will you hunt her tonight, sir?"_

_Albeci gave a nod, not turning from the road she fled on. _

"_Yes. She is somewhere here, in Falkreath, hiding and waiting for the sun to set, so she can begin her second hunt. By now, she's coming of the adrenalin of her latest kills…"_

"_Kills?"_

"_This woman craves combat, blood, and has an urge to kill even in her human form. She killed more than just Gulie. A bandit cave cleared out? Turned the tables on a group of hunters? Whatever happened, she has killed. She would be just coming off the rush of the last kill, and she would be resting, sleeping as she waited for the sun to get lower, so she can prepare herself for her hunt. It's a rather sad thing that we will have to wait for the night, for her to transform, to truly begin to hunt her. I want you lot to keep everyone in their homes. Any heroes will just be lunch for her, and the werewolves gets more wild, aggressive, and dangerous for every kill they get."_

_The guard nodded, and went to relay his instructions. At last, Albeci drew his bow, taking an arrow and aiming down the path. The area was forested, so she would have the advantage, her enhanced instinct guiding her through the forests. He would not have the element of surprise; she would catch his scent the moment she transformed. He would have to rely on his Nord mercenary to combat Ancola at close range while he engaged her from long range. This was the first time he hunted with a partner. The past hunts had told him that hunting alone was a bad idea. He carried the gash across his nose with pride. The fact he faced the Lady Wo- Ancola, and lived, made him a cut above all other hunters. Albeci finally released his bow, testing it. His arrow fired true at his intended target, the trunk of a tree. If he could just do that to Ancola's head, he would of finally killed her. But he knew it wouldn't be that easy, it never was. Albeci retired to his rented house, where he slept, resting for the coming battle._

_When the sun began to set, the townsfolk awoke him, and Albeci saw his Mercenary standing over him. Sliding out of bed, Albeci began to walk down the path, towards the sunset. He turned back to the village._

"_We'll bring her down, and I swear by the Divines you lot will get her pelt to use as a rug."_

_With that, he turned back down the path, his Mercenary standing by him. The hunt had begun. And he would be damned if Ancola escaped this time._


End file.
